


30 Day Writing Challenge: Unlove You

by Harleydoll



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 30 day challenge, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Related, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:29:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harleydoll/pseuds/Harleydoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles, which will be updated as I write them (hopefully) daily. Some canon, some not, and some based on AUs, either from my other fics or someone else's. Check out the chapter summaries for more details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Were Right About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: You Were right About Me. 
> 
> A deleted scene, of sorts, from [Okay, I Feel Better Now](http://archiveofourown.org/works/278794/chapters/442831). Maybe set somewhere between chapters 2 and 3, or maybe a complete divergence altogether. 
> 
> We never actually see [Dr. Gallio](http://marvel.wikia.com/Selene_Gallio_\(Earth-616\)) in the story, so I thought it might be interesting to see what happens if hers and Charles' minds were to momentarily clash.

Erik is used to it now, when Charles stops abruptly in mid-sentence and lets the book fall to the floor, that precise moment when the drugs stop working (or start, Erik still isn’t quite certain) and the shaking and muttering begins. The first time it happened, Erik had reached out to comfort him, but Charles just drew his knees to his chest and shook his head furiously, mumbling something about how he had to sort it out himself. Up until now, Erik had complied, thinking that if he’d handled it this long by himself, surely he would be just fine. But up until now, his episodes hadn’t been this bad. 

He’s still holding the book in his hands, his eyes narrowed in concentration as though trying to focus on something in the distance. Erik can hear faint voices in the hallway, one of which he immediately recognizes as Dr. MacTaggart, but the other is completely unknown to him. He thinks he hears the name Gallio, but he can’t be sure. All that matters is Charles, dead silent and unmoving, barely even breathing, arms wrapped tightly around himself against whatever new threat has infiltrated his mind. Erik’s never seen him like this before, and suddenly he’s afraid that maybe this is it, that he’s lost Charles for good. 

Against his better judgement, he slips an arm around Charles’ shoulders, covering his hand with his own. The barest hint of recognition flickers in Charles’ eyes and his breath hitches, barely audible even in the silence. Erik doesn’t dare speak, and listens instead to the murmur of voices getting louder as they pass by the door. After what seems like hours, Charles blinks and exhales loudly, like a great weight has been lifted from his chest. Relieved, Erik wraps Charles in a tight embrace. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” he says softly.

“I was…it was like something was trying to scratch its way in. She said that…she said…” Charles trails off, suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear this.” 

Erik starts. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“It’s true, what you said. I’m just another paranoid freak, complete with voices and psychotic episodes and pills to keep me quiet.” Charles pushes him away and crawls back into his bed, pulling the blankets up until he’s all but buried within them. 

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” Erik says, picking the book up off the floor and marking their page. “I definitely think you’re paranoid.” He stacks the book on top of the others under the bed before slipping underneath the blankets as well, Charles’ back to his front. Charles stiffens at the contact, but this time he doesn’t push Erik away.


	2. Day 2: I Was Wrong About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: I Was Wrong About You. 
> 
> Charles was reluctant to return to the mansion after the CIA base was destroyed. This is why.

Charles can hear someone calling his name, feel long fingers gripping his shoulders, yanking him back into consciousness, and his first instinct is to shove the owner of those fingers back and get as far away as he can as his nightmares spill into the waking world. His feet skid against the sheets, searching for the traction he needs to push further back against the headboard while his eyes, wide and shining with fear, scan his surroundings for an escape. Suddenly, those same hands are on him again, cupping his face and forcing him to look straight ahead, but still he fights, a stream of protests spilling from his lips until he catches a glimpse of blue-green, familiar but not quite, and he does what that voice is telling him and focuses until it’s Erik’s anxious expression filling his field of vision, Erik’s voice telling him he needs to calm down and focus, Erik’s thumbs swiping at the stray tears staining his’ cheeks. Charles’ body sags with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, and Erik coaxes him forward and wraps him tightly in his arms. 

Erik murmurs quiet reassurances while Charles sobs against his throat, occasionally choking out an apology as he clutches the front of Erik’s t-shirt. The minutes pass, and Charles eventually snuffles loudly before going completely silent, his chest rising and falling in time with Erik’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Charles repeats, softly this time. 

Erik tells him it’s alright, thinking he’s apologizing for projecting his nightmares so loudly that Erik had come running from his room down the hall, ready for a fight, and was instead faced with memories of a broken home and an abusive stepfather. Erik almost wishes that man was here now, so that he could tear his throat out himself for what he did to Charles. 

“I suspected they’d return, you know. The moment I laid eyes on the house this afternoon, I knew.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have stayed with you.” 

Charles doesn’t reply, but gently brushes against Erik’s mind, bringing up brief flashes of Shaw before replacing them with _I don’t know how you survived such hardship, Charles._

Erik squeezes his eyes shut, guilt washing over him as he realizes that all this time, Charles thought his own pain and suffering meant nothing next to Erik’s hellish past, and that Erik thought the exact same thing. 

“Oh, Charles. I didn’t mean…” He shifts slightly and Charles sits up in his lap, his face still blotched and puffy from crying. “I would never…I…” Lost for words, he opens his mind to Charles, hoping that the love and acceptance he projects will be enough to make him understand, and when Charles presses his lips against Erik’s, soft and sweet, he allows himself to think that everything just might be okay.


	3. Day 3: This Cancels Out the Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: This Cancels out the Hurt
> 
> In which Erik, for just one moment, allows himself to feel peace.

Erik is going to kill Shaw. His absolute certainty in this one, simple fact is what has kept him going all these years. Always moving forward, always moving closer to his ultimate goal. But now, watching Charles coax Sean into doing a swan dive off the top of the satellite, convincing him that yes, Hank’s contraption will catch the sound waves at the correct angle and propel him into the air, Erik begins to feel a different kind of certainty blossoming within him. It’s a strange warmth in his chest, one that’s been creeping up slowly since they arrived at Charles’ mansion, and yet still catches him completely off guard up there on the satellite. 

Erik shakes those thoughts off before he can delve too deeply into this new feeling, and cuts into Charles’ speech about muscle control with a “here, let me help” and shoves Sean off the edge. He’s vaguely aware of Charles shouting his name, both watching as Sean panics and flails his limbs before survival instincts kick in and he screams, propelling himself upwards and skimming the tops of the trees before arcing high over their heads. Erik can’t help but smile as he watches Sean experiment with various angles against the bowl of the satellite, and when he turns slightly to follow the boy’s ascent, he notices Charles smiling as well, but his eyes are on Erik rather than the sky. 

“What? You know you were thinking the same,” Erik shrugs, still grinning and entirely unrepentant. Charles just shakes his head and turns away to watch Sean, who won’t be landing until his voice gives out or he drops from exhaustion, whichever comes first, Erik supposes. He steps forward and slips his arms around Charles’ waist, that same blissful warmth spreading through him as Charles leans into his embrace. Standing here with Charles, watching Sean let out a whoop of joy while he performs various arcs and loops high above their heads, Erik is absolutely certain of one thing: for the first time in over two decades, he is home.


	4. Day 4: I Need to Want You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-XMFC drabble I wrote a while back. Erik wants to apologize, but Charles has a lot of unresolved anger.

“I came to apologize.” 

Charles' features darkened at this admonition as he wheeled himself out from behind the desk. 

Erik's eyes widened. “Charles, I-- I'm—”

“You're what, Erik? Sorry?” the uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice shocked Erik into silence. “You're sorry for leaving me bleeding on a beach with a crippling injury and no way home, is that it? Or perhaps you wanted to apologize for convincing my sister to do the same?” 

Erik remained silent, eyes downcast, which only made Charles angrier. 

“Oh no, I have it,” Charles sneered. “You've come to apologize for putting on that infernal helmet in the first place, the very same one you can't be bothered to take off now, and driving a coin through the skull of a man whose mind I was inside at the time! Tell me, Erik,” he continued, “do you have any idea what that feels like, even secondhand?” 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Erik said quietly. 

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before you let me think we were friends...” Charles' voice cracked and he furiously blinked away the tears that threatened to flow. “...and then used me as a bloody pawn in your revenge. Maybe I shouldn't have even...shouldn't have...” 

He gave up on stringing sentences together and began to sob, his upper body trembling violently as he pressed his face into his hands. Erik immediately stripped off his cape and helmet before dropping to one knee, and, with some hesitation, wrapped his arms around the other man. Charles thrashed against him, pushing Erik away every time he tried to move closer.

“Don't touch me! Just, don't, please, I can't...”

Erik complied, thinking maybe Charles really didn't want him, but then Charles was dragging him close again and burying his face in Erik's neck, fingers grasping at fabric, skin, whatever he could reach. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Erik whispered into Charles' hair. “I don't expect you to ever forgive me, or even to listen after the things I've done, but that's what I came to say.” 

Charles mumbled something into Erik's neck in response, rendered unintelligible by a broken sob that escaped him as he tried to speak. 

“What's that?” 

Charles raised his head just enough to speak, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. “I said, would you just shut up.” 

“Charles--” 

And then Charles was kissing him, sloppy, closed-mouth kisses that hit Erik's chin, his jawline, and the corners of his mouth, trailing his fingers along the contours of Erik's face, until finally Erik cupped Charles' chin and guided their lips together. 

Charles responded in full, grinding his lips feverishly against Erik's own and tangling his fingers in Erik's hair to draw him closer. He didn't even realize he was sliding off the chair until he was in Erik's lap, legs folded haphazardly beneath him. Charles flushed with embarrassment, but Erik ignored it and kissed him again before biting down hard on the exposed skin just above Charles' collarbone. 

Charles cried out at the sensation, but it was Erik who pulled away, suddenly unsure. 

“I'm sor--” he started to say, but Charles covered Erik's mouth with his own, running his tongue along Erik's lower lip before demanding entry. His fingers, meanwhile, worked furiously at the buttons of his shirt until Erik stilled Charles' trembling hands and replaced them with his own. 

“Slow down, love,” Erik murmured. “I'm here as long as you want me.” 

Charles froze and stared hard at him. “You don't mean that.” 

“Yes, I do,” Erik replied evenly. He shifted them both so that Charles was straddling his lap. “You won't let me say it, so let me show you instead. All I want is you, Charles.” 

Charles leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Erik's, slipping easily into his mind, almost as though he had never left. He was nearly overcome by the wave of _wantloveneedlovelovesorrysosorryCharlesloveyou_ that hit him as he entered, all leading to-- there. The memories of the past few months poured forth, of hate and fear and loss and need, need to be anchored to something, and that something was...Charles. 

“Nothing has turned out the way I planned,” Erik murmured, closing his eyes. “I need a home again. I need you to make me whole again.” 

Charles rested his cheek against Erik's shoulder, Erik awkwardly adjusting Charles' hips so that they lay flush against each other. “I can help you, Erik. But you need to want it. Not just me, but all of this. I can't lose you again.” 

Erik was quiet for a moment, focusing on inhaling as Charles exhaled, their chests rising and falling in tandem. 

“I do.”


	5. You Can Be Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler for the end of X-Men Apocalypse. This takes place around and after the end of the movie, because I had to deal with my Erik feels somehow. There's still tons of XMA fic I want to write, so this is only the beginning!

“I missed this.” Charles rests his head against Erik's chest, smiling softly as Eirk's finger's traces the curves of his bare skull. 

“As did I,” Erik answers softly. He'd stood in front of Charles' door for what felt like hours, knowing Charles could sense him there, turning Nina's locket over and over between his fingers, the metal as cold as her cheek against his when she--

 _Erik._

Charles had been so gentle, coaxing Erik not out of his grief, but through it and into his bed. There hadn't been any sex tonight, and there won't be. Erik just wants to hold Charles, to have someone he loves alive and warm in his arms and feel as though he's not alone. These desires are what drove Erik to him the first time around, and it's only fitting that they're what's led him here again. 

“You know there's always a place for you here.” 

Erik closes his eyes, but doesn't answer. He knows exactly where this is going. 

“And we could always use more teachers, especially now with the construction of the Danger Room.” 

Erik sighs and laces his fingers just above Charles' waist. “Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?”

“I'm not giving up on you, Erik. The things we could do here, together--”

“I'm not like you, Charles,” Erik interrupts. “I don't have the kind of hope for humanity that you do.” 

“If you stayed I could help you. I could show you a different path.” 

Erik chuckles. “I'm not the kind of person that should be allowed to teach and fosters new generation of mutants.” 

“But you are the kind of person that understands why we need one,” Charles counters. His head bobs only sightly as he speaks, the top of his head brushing against Erik's stubbled chin. 

“You're right,” Erik concedes. “I know exactly how important this school is. And that's why I can't stay.”

Charles is silent for a long moment, and if Erik didn't know better, he'd think Charles was falling asleep. Finally he says, “You can always come home when you need to.” 

“This isn't my home.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them, and he's thankful when Charles just snuggles against him and smiles like he knows exactly what Erik is thinking. And of course, Erik remembers, he does. 

~

Less than a week later, Erik sits cross legged at the base of what used to be the Golden Gate bridge. The black leather jacket isn't much of a costume, but the skeletal full face helmet he's made for himself does well to both conceal his identity and distort his voice. He's taking hi time to rebuild it; he doesn't want to appear anywhere near as powerful as Magneto. Besides, he finds it quite relaxing to focus on the thrumming of the metal in the water, calling it to him and shaping it to his will. When news anchors and curious observers ask who he is, he tells them “my name is Xorn” and continues with his work. After this is finished he will move on to another location, and another, doing his part to fix the damage he has wrought. 

Meanwhile, watching the television from one of multiple rec rooms in the mansion, Charles watches the news reports on a mysterious mutant known only as Xorn moving from place to place, helping rebuild efforts on the West Coast. As he watches that familiar signature, the way “Xorn” manipulates the metal of the San Francisco bridge like it's second nature, he can't help but think that perhaps Erik has found a sliver of good in himself, after all.


	6. I Want to Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another (mini) epilogue for my Crossroads fic, taking place sometime between years 15 and 20.

Charles had lost something vitally important. He'd been sitting cross-legged against the curved wall of his room, eyes closed as he searched the far reaches of his mind for the thing that he lost, but it's not working. He'd lost his focus. Was that it? No. There was something wrong, memories he couldn't quite reach. His head was such a mess after the last soul he had tortured. Charles did remember telling Emma repeatedly, and with great conviction, that he wasn't undoing another telepath. But this one, Emma assured him, was entirely complacent, and besides he wouldn't receive his next victim until this one was finished. Charles had tried everything, from bargaining to whining to threatening to rip Emma apart next, but Emma had just laughed in his face and slammed the door, leaving Charles alone with an imposing, red-haired woman that was already skimming the forefront of his mind. 

“Get out,” he snapped. She retreated backwards, physically and mentally, but a split second later he felt her trying to nudge her way in again. “I said, get out.” 

Charles wasn't sure what had happened after that. He knew she'd gotten into his head, and he'd found himself locking away what was most important to him in the places she couldn't reach. He remembered taking her by surprise, subduing her and then ripping into her mind with reckless abandon. He lost control because he was angry – at her, for raiding his memories, at Emma, for making him do this, and at himself, for not being able to defend himself. When he finally came back to himself, the other telepath was lying on the floor in a heap of distorted, broken limbs, and Charles wondered distantly if he's be reprimanded for using physical violence.

Charles reopened his eyes as a fresh victim materialized before him. No, not a victim. Something else. “You.” 

The newcomer's profile was all sharp angles, tense and predatory, but when his gaze fell on Charles, his expression immediately softened. “Ready to go?” 

“You're the thing I lost.” Charles couldn't explain how he knew this. This man was a complete stranger to him, but there was something so familiar, something drawing him in like the magnet of a compass, pointing him in the right direction. “I don't know where I put them. Somewhere safe, I think.” 

“Did you misplace your memories again?” his visitor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. It's okay. We can fix this, but you have to trust me. Can you do that, Charles?” 

Charles hesitated. He'd be entirely dependent on the other man if they left here. The very thought of a world outside of this room both frightened and excited him. “Yes,” Charles told him, to both of their surprise. “I think I can.”


End file.
